


Birthright

by Rimilod (Dolimir)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Parallel Universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-16
Updated: 2002-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:32:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1500248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolimir/pseuds/Rimilod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will learning the identity of Blair's father change everything between Blair and Jim?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birthright

**Author's Note:**

> The need to rewrite these stories is almost overwhelming. However, I'm not going to do it because if I do, I will never post them. 
> 
> Disclaimers: All standard disclaimers apply. Pet Fly Productions and UPN own the characters and the series. No copyright infringement intended. No money was made in writing or sharing this story.
> 
> *-*-*-*-*-*

Blair Sandburg sighed in relief as a knock on the front door of the loft gave him a legitimate reason for not grading the blue books in front of him. He had been sitting at the table for the past thirty minutes, not grading, and feeling guilty about it, but he couldn't help it. He was worried about Jim, had been worried about Jim for several days -- ever since his father passed away. 

Blair knew that Jim and William had been working hard at their reconciliation, but also knew it had been a long and hard process to overcome old wounds. Blair could only pray that Jim felt comfortable with his attempts, that he wasn't berating himself for not having done enough. 

However, the man had revealed nothing about his current state of mind. 

A second rap jerked Blair out of his musings. He pushed himself away from the table and walked to the door. Standing on his toes he looked through the peep hole and saw a man about his age dressed in a very conservative suit. Deeming him safe, Blair unlocked the door. 

"May I help you?"

"Yes. My name is Andrew Hardesty from Spencer, Jackson and Browne. I'm here to..."

"Oh, crap. Jim's on his way to your office. He thought the reading of the will was supposed to take place there. Here, come on in. Let me see if I can catch him before he gets too far." Blair turned toward the phone on the kitchen island.

"Actually, Mr. Sandburg, I'm here to see you," the young lawyer said in a low urgent voice, even as he shut the front door behind him.

Blair stopped, stunned. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm here on behalf of William Ellison's estate," Andrew said as he set his briefcase on the kitchen table. "May I?"

Blair nodded absently. "This can't be good," Blair murmured, unable to bring himself to join the lawyer at the table. 

Andrew turned and smiled gently at him. "While we're often considered sharks, Mr. Sandburg, we aren't always the bearer of bad news."

"Sorry," Blair apologized, running one hand over his face. "Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"No. Thank you." Andrew opened his briefcase, but hesitated when he realized Blair hadn't joined him at the table. "Mr. Ellison has entrusted our law firm with a special task to be undertaken upon his death."

"And it involves me?"

"Yes, Mr. Sandburg. Would you care to have a seat?" the lawyer asked, pointing to the chair beside him.

Blair shook his head, but walked to the end of the table, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Andrew seemed to realize this was all he was going to get, and proceeded to pull a videotape out of his briefcase. "This is a fifteen minute tape. I've been instructed to let you view it in private. I thought I might wander downstairs to the bakery and get a cappuccino. I'll be back in about twenty-five minutes to discuss the rest of our business."

"Why can't we just discuss it now?" Blair asked, trying hard not to sound belligerent. 

"Because I have been instructed to follow Mr. Ellison's directives to the letter." Andrew frowned when Blair made no move to take the tape. "I shouldn't say anything, but I don't believe it's bad news. Honestly."

Blair blinked at him but reluctantly unwound one of his arms from his body and accepted the tape. 

"I'll be back in twenty-five." Andrew picked up his briefcase and showed himself out of the loft.

With one arm still crossed over his chest, Blair looked at the tape. "This can't be good," he whispered to himself again. Why would William send him a tape? If it were important, why wouldn't he be invited to the attorney's office along with Jim and Stephen?

He glanced over at the television set, then down at his blue books. Suddenly, grading didn't look so bad. He was tempted to toss the tape in the trash, but knew Andrew would be back, probably right on the promised minute. His feet slowly moved, as if by their own volition, toward the television. 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "You hurt Jim and I'll dig you up, old man. I swear, I will," he vowed quietly, bending over and inserting the tape into the vcr. 

He picked up the remote and moved back to the couch and flopped down. Releasing another deep breath, he pushed the on button. 

The tape whirled and an image came up on the screen -- William Ellison, sitting behind the mahogany desk in his office. William stared forward for almost a full minute in silence, then shook his head. "No, I don't want to start over," he said to someone behind the camera.

William pushed aside a small stack of papers. "Hello, Blair." He smiled, almost shyly. "I had a speech I was going to read, but sitting here, it suddenly doesn't seem right to tell you in such a cold informal manner. You deserve better than that."

William bowed his head briefly. "I'll cut to the chase. I'm dying and I know I'm dying. In fact, I've already had several very small heart attacks. The doctors have been trying to push a variety of pills down my throat, but in the end, they won't have much effect. I estimate I have a few more weeks. And no, I haven't told Jimmy or Stevie nor do I plan to. In the last year, we have all made great strides in trying to heal our relationship and I don't want this hanging over their heads, making them cognizant of a clock slowly winding down. If we can make amends, we will. If not, then I'm prepared to die in the bed I've made."

"However, I don't think that will be necessary. Thanks to you. And yes, I do know that you've been the driving force behind our reconciliation. Jimmy walked away nearly fifteen years ago without blinking. He could have gone for another fifteen. While Stephen has never truly been gone physically, he hasn't been here emotionally for years -- until recently."

William smiled into the camera. "I remember the first phone call I made to Jimmy after he came back into my life. I figured there was no time like the present to mend fences. You answered the phone and put Jimmy on so fast my head almost spun. I asked him to lunch, but he was hesitant. I then heard a loud cracking sound in the background. When he spoke again, I could tell he was smiling, almost laughing. His agreement to meet for lunch made me believe in miracles again. I swore I wouldn't blow my second, and probably last, chance. Although, I have to admit to being curious about the noise was and why it seemed to help him make up his mind. Imagine my surprise when he told me it was you zapping him with a towel." William chuckled.

"I also know you were instrumental in helping Stephen bridge the distance, not only between he and I, but between him and Jim as well."

William's smile faded and he was once again silent. "Isn't it ironic that the son I refused to acknowledge was the one who gave me peace in my final days?"

Blair blinked and pushed the pause button. He shook his head and rewound the tape.

"...the son I refused to acknowledge was the one who gave me peace in my final days."

"No," Blair mouthed, shaking his head again, but not stopping the tape.

"I won't go into ancient history, there's no point at this time. Suffice it to say there are two sides to every story and there is no reason to burden you with mine." William shook his head, almost as if hearing Blair's raging thoughts. "The medical tests are conclusive, by the way. No question. Absolutely none. If you wish, you may speak to my personal physician, Robert MacGuire. He will be more than happy to show you the results and explain the methodology."

"So, why am I telling you now?" William sighed. "After the fact." The older man rubbed both hands over his face. "First and foremost, I thought you had a right to know and, after all this time, I came to accept the fact that Naomi was never going to tell you. Secondly, to apologize. While I provided financially for you, I never got to know you -- which may have been a blessing in disguise. After all, look what a good job I did with my other sons. Maybe you should consider yourself blessed."

William sighed again, then smiled sadly at the camera. "When I first realized you and Jimmy had hooked up, I wondered if you had somehow figured everything out, but later I came to understand it was simply serendipity. I was annoyed, at first, when Jimmy insisted on dragging you to all our meetings, like some sort of chaperone. But as time passed and I got to know you, I realized I liked you, liked the man you had become, so different from Jimmy and Stevie, and yet with the same integrity. I'm proud to say I fathered you."

"So why aren't you at the lawyers office with the family?" William nervously shuffled the papers on the table beside him before looking back at the camera. "Because I kept you a secret, lying by omission to Jimmy and Stevie."

William cleared his throat nervously. "I had promised myself I would tell you and the boys this past Christmas; but the holiday had been such a joyous one, and I couldn't bring myself to spoil the mood. At last I had all three of my sons around me, happy, loving. I know I made you uncomfortable with all the gifts I gave you, but I couldn't not indulge myself in giving them. Using the excuse that you were practically family covered a multitude of sins."

William shifted nervously in his chair, suddenly looking very human, instead of like the CEO of a major company. "I knew the truth would destroy the family and I couldn't do that, not after finally pulling it back together." William looked down at his clasped and withered hands for several moments before looking back at the camera. "I know it's not fair to tell you now, to burden you with this truth, but I cannot leave this world without providing for you, especially after everything you've done for Jimmy and his... gifts. For the record, all indications are that Jimmy inherited them from Mary Margaret. Maggie died from childbirth complications," William's voice broke. "For years I allowed my grief to keep me from enjoying her greatest gift to me -- Jimmy."

William pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and dabbed his eyes. "I've spent the last year pulling together everything I could find about Mary Margaret's family. I bequeath those to you, to see if they might help Jimmy with his gifts."

"Stephen has shown no sign of having Jimmy's abilities, meaning I'm probably not the carrier of the genes. Grace's biggest genetic talent seemed to be the ability to spend my money."

"Speaking of which, I suppose it's time to get down to the nitty gritty, heh?" William put the handkerchief back into his pocket, the face of the CEO back in place. "When you were born, I opened several investment accounts that no one ever knew about. They are yours. Their current total is approximately 2.3 million dollars. The interest on those accounts should keep you in a very comfortable lifestyle."

The hastily erected facade began to crumble, and Blair was struck by the sadness in the man's eyes. "I know you, Blair. I know you don't want my money or anything I could possibly give you. Well, tough, young man. I've made provisions that if you refuse my money, the funds will still be used to immediately pay off all your student loans. The money will then be set up into a trust fund for your children, although you will always be allowed access to the money."

"So, here we are." To Blair's eyes, William suddenly looked very frail. "I know the money will never make up for the burden I'm placing on your shoulders. Do you tell the boys or don't you? It's totally up to you."

William leaned forward in his chair. "Change your dissertation topic, son. You understand why, right?" William closed his eyes then slowly sank back into his chair. 

"It's been a pleasure getting to know you, to see the speed with which your mind works, to hear your laughter ring through a house which had ceased to be a home years before...until you walked through the door. You gave me back my sons, Blair, and for that I can never repay you. You've made these last few months a true joy and I am forever in your debt. May you have a long and happy life. Know that your old man was proud of you and that he loved you."

The screen faded to black. 

Blair blinked, cognizant of a knocking at the door. Carefully, almost as if the electronic device would explode otherwise, he set the remote control on the couch beside him, leaned back and rubbed the heel of both palms over his eyes. He looked over at the clock in the kitchen. He had been zoned for almost ten minutes. He snorted softly at the thought.

"Mr. Sandburg," a voice called out from the hallway.

Andrew. 

Of course. 

He stood and stumbled toward the door, leaning his forehead against the wood and taking a deep breath to center himself before straightening and opening the portal to his future.

"You've watched the tape?" Andrew asked gently.

Blair nodded and stood to one side to let the attorney into the loft.

"I wasn't sure you would."

"I almost didn't," Blair whispered.

"Curiosity won out?"

Blair gave him a small smile and nodded.

"William hoped it might."

Blair moved as if in a trance to the kitchen table. "What now?" he whispered, gingerly lowering himself into a chair.

"There are some papers for you to sign," Andrew answered quietly, taking the chair next to him.

"What...what sort of papers?"

"Well, it depends, really. Do you want your father's bequest?"

Blair blinked at the man. "Do I have to decide now?"

Andrew shook his head and laid his hand over Blair's. "No. There's no hurry." The lawyer leaned back and took a business card from his breast pocket. "Call me whenever you're ready to talk."

Blair took the card and stared at it blankly, turning it nervously in his hands. 

"If I don't hear from you within the next thirty days, I'll give you a call. If you don't mind," Andrew added as an afterthought.

Blair nodded again, distractedly.

Andrew stood and gently patted Blair on the shoulder, then gathered his briefcase and once again let himself out of the loft. 

As the door snicked closed, Blair released the breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding. He was surprised to realize his mind wasn't overloaded with questions; instead... he was numb.

Woodenly, he pushed himself up from the table and moved to the phone, unconsciously dialing.

"Hello," a voice sang brightly from the other end of the phone.

"Mom," he whispered, as if speaking too loud would shatter him.

"Hey, Sweetie."

Blair couldn't bring himself to initiate conversation.

"Blair?" Naomi's voice lowered, her concern flooding through the phone.

"He...he died."

"Jim? Oh my god. Baby, I..."

"No," Blair said, raising his voice briefly, cutting her off.

A moment of silence passed between them. "Then who, sweetie?" she asked quietly, seeming to understand how fragile he was at the moment.

Blair opened his mouth to speak, but no noise came out. He tried again. "My...my..." He cleared his throat. "My father," he finally whispered.

"What?"

"He told me."

"He told you?"

He nodded his head, but said nothing.

After a moment, she said quietly, "He said he wouldn't."

"I guess he changed his mind," he whispered.

Naomi remained silent on the other end of the line.

"How...how could you let me...live with my...my brother and never say a word?" Blair asked, feeling an anger slowly churn within him.

"I swore to him I'd never tell you. I told him I'd..."

"Yet you took money from him," Blair cut in angrily.

"Of course I took money from him," she responded hotly. "I was a single mother in the seventies. I may have been young, but I wasn't an idiot."

Blair blinked back hot tears. "Did you...did you ever love him?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. When she finally answered, Naomi spoke very softly. "Yes, baby. I know you have no reason to believe me, but you were conceived in love. Sometimes though... sometimes love isn't enough."

Blair gasped for breath, his sinuses clogging with suppressed emotions. 

"I'll be there tomorrow," she said quietly.

"NO!" He coughed, embarrassed by his outburst. "I...uh...I need some time to process this."

Naomi remained silent for nearly a minute. "I hear that," she said, finally.

"Thank you," he whispered, meaning it; knowing he had hurt her, but not sure what else to do or say.

"Will you be okay?" she asked softly.

Blair had to smile. He knew what people said about his mom, about her skills as a parent, and a lot of it was true; but his one universal truth was that his mother loved him. 

"Yes," he answered simply, then added, "I'm okay now. I just have to..."

"Process."

"Exactly."

"I love you, Blair."

"I love you too, mom." And with that, he hung up the phone. 

He stood, lost, beside the kitchen island, before remembering the tape. He turned and retrieved it, and put it his bedroom. His bedroom...in his brother's home. He blinked, then violently shook his head before he could zone again.

Change your dissertation topic, son. You understand why, right?

"Yeah, dad, I guess I do," he said softly. Maybe it was for the best. He had been postponing writing his thesis because he knew, had known for almost two years, that he wouldn't be able to turn in the research. It was too dangerous. Brackett had proven that fact beyond a shadow of a doubt. Besides, he had discovered that he was Jim's guide, as Brackett had also so aptly put it. He knew he couldn't walk away from Jim and so had put himself in a holding pattern until he could decide what to do. But this final straw asked the ultimate question: could he look at his own flesh and blood with the cold calculating gaze of a scientist? He shook his head, silently answering his own question. 

He walked back to the kitchen table and sat down in front of his blue books. Maybe, he could tell his dissertation committee that the subject had formally withdrawn his permission to be used in his study. A white lie. An obfuscation. One that was far more believable than the ongoing saga that was his life. 

The committee would not be happy. Changing topics so late in the game was considered academic suicide, but he honestly didn't know what else to do. He had once told Jim that he had enough information for ten dissertations, and he did, and not all about his sentinel. Suddenly, the enclosed structure of the modern day police department looked like a very viable alternative. 

He closed his eyes. If he lived and breathed academia for the next two weeks, he could possibly get his proposal and a few opening chapters to his dissertation advisor. He now had sufficient motivation to finish.

But what about being Jim's ride-along? Once the dissertation was complete, the social lie they had used to maintain the status quo would be null and void. What were they going to do?

He lowered his head onto the blue books.

"God, William," he muttered. "Couldn't you have left me in ignorance?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Blair."

"Hmm?"

"Come on, buddy, you need to wake up."

"Five more minutes."

Jim's warm laugh surrounded him as strong hands guided him back against his chair. He whimpered as blood flowed back through oxygen-deprived muscles.

"Sit still," Jim commanded quietly, gently massaging his neck and shoulders. Blair closed his eyes and lost himself in the soothing touch. After several minutes, Jim asked, "Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks, man."

Jim patted his shoulders and moved into the kitchen toward the refrigerator.

"How...uh...how..."

Jim pulled out two bottles of beer and shrugged as he closed the refrigerator door with his hip. "He split everything between Stephen and I pretty equally. He gave Sally the house, which is only right since it's been her home for nearly thirty years."

"That's good."

He handed Blair a bottle. "He also left her some stocks. She should be very comfortable for the rest of her life."

Blair nodded encouragingly.

"He made Stephen CEO of the company."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah, I am." Jim took a deep swig of beer. "What do I know about business anyway? Besides, he gave us each equal voting rights. Sort of the final revenge, I suppose. He'd been dropping hints about wanting me to retire from the force and join him. I guess this way he gets his wish. Now, I have to be involved with his company to some extent."

"Does that bother you?"

"No. I mean, he spent his whole life building it from the ground up; the least I can do is to honor that memory by making sure everything flows smoothly -- you know, help Stephen out when I can."

"So, are you each fifty percent shareholders?" Blair asked, turning the cold bottle over in his hands, but not opening it.

Jim shook his head. "Forty-five. Apparently, he sold ten percent somewhere along the line."

"So who has the other percentage?" Blair asked, even though he knew instinctively who owned the other shares.

"Don't know. Stephen will find out on Monday."

Monday. He had until Monday. What happened to letting me decide if I want to tell them or not, Blair thought angrily. 

"You think you might do it?"

"What? Retire and go into business?" Jim asked, leaning against the island.

"Yeah. It would certainly be safer."

Jim shrugged. "But who would watch the tribe?"

Blair smiled brilliantly at him. 

"Who knows? Maybe eventually. It's nice to know, at least, I have options."

Blair nodded. 

"Of course, I'll probably never want for money again."

"Left you a chunk of change, did he?"

Jim took another swallow of beer. "You could say that."

Blair stood and moved to his friend...his brother. Laying an arm on Jim's forearm, he asked gently, "Hungry?"

Jim smiled softly at him, his appreciation of the comfort being given to him clearly written on his face. "Yeah, I could eat."

Blair moved around the kitchen island. "Is Stephen okay?"

"It's hard to say." Jim shrugged briefly, when Blair turned toward him. "He wasn't quite as far removed emotionally as I am...was," he corrected. "He seemed lost somehow."

"But he knows you're there for him, right?"

"Yes, mom, he does." Jim smiled gently at him again.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. You wouldn't be you otherwise."

"Thanks, man. Now go sit down while I get dinner thrown together."

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Blair flew through the front door and the loft and threw his backpack on his bed. He moved back into the kitchen, and pulled out the big stainless steel pot and filled it with water, putting it on the burner and turning the gas on beneath it.

Pasta. 

Pasta was good.

Quick. Simple. 

Unlike his day had been.

Professor Harlan had NOT been pleased by the news that Blair's research subject had revoked his agreement to be used in his doctorate. 

Blair knew he had the gift of the Irish when it came to talking himself out of situations, but he had never worked as hard as he had during the meeting with his advisor. In the end, his arguments had worked. Harlan was going to meet with the dissertation committee in two days with the outline of Blair's proposal and his timeline to finish the revised thesis. 

Now all he had to do was talk to Jim. He opened the freezer and pulled out a bag of shrimp.

The object of his thoughts walked through the door and tossed his keys into the wicker basket. "Hey, Chief."

"Hey, Jim. Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"Great. I'm starved."

"How was work?"

"Same old, same old."

"In other words, blood, guts and boredom."

"Got it in one." Jim chuckled, looking over Blair's shoulder on the way to the refrigerator. "Hey, Shrimp! What's the occasion?"

"What do you mean what's the occasion?"

"You're feeding me shrimp, shrimp." Jim tugged on his ponytail. "What? You want to ask a favor or something? Want to borrow the truck?"

Blair turned and grinned impishly at the older man. "So you're saying if I want to borrow the truck all I have to do is feed you shrimp?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying."

"It sure sounded that way to me, oh great sentinel."

Jim reached for him, but Blair danced easily out of range. Jim's grin promised payback, but Blair just stuck his tongue out at him.

"So, what's up, Junior?"

"Well, I was hoping you might have some time to sit down with me after dinner and..."

The phone rang, cutting off the rest of his thought.

Jim reached for the phone and Blair turned and bent into the refrigerator, pulling tomatoes, onions and squash out of the vegetable bins. His grin faded as he stood and noticed Jim's hard stare.

"I'll call you back as soon as I find out," Jim said firmly, his eyes never leaving Blair's face as he pushed the end button.

Blair swallowed hard, putting the vegetables on the cutting board. 

A full minute of silence passed, neither man sure how to broach the subject before them.

"So, shrimp?"

If the circumstances had been different, Blair might have smiled, but at the moment smiling was the furthest thing from his mind. "I...I wanted to talk to you after dinner about a couple of things."

"Things?" the word was repeated icily.

Blair dropped his gaze and toyed with the vegetables before him.

"Like why you own ten percent of the stock in my father's company?"

Blair closed his eyes. So it was true. He had hoped, prayed even, that William wouldn't be so obvious about things, but apparently the knowledge of his death had given the man courage to face issues he couldn't do in life. "Yes."

"Maybe we should talk now." Not a question, but a statement, almost an order.

Blair nodded, turning the heat off under the water and putting the shrimp back in the freezer. He swallowed hard, and nodded his head in a barely perceptible motion toward the front room. He watched Jim's jaw clench, but the older man moved to the couch. Blair made a detour to his room and got the tape off his desk. 

Jim was frowning when he returned. 

Blair walked into the front room and paced beside the coffee table, desperately looking for a way to start the conversation.

"Sandburg," Jim growled. 

Blair stopped dead in his tracks. He took a deep breath and blushed at the shuddering quality of the air passing over his lips. "On Friday," he began, not looking at Jim, "while you were at the attorney's office, I had a visitor. It was a lawyer from your dad's firm. I told him you had already left, but he said he didn't want to talk to you, he wanted to talk to me. He gave me this." Blair thrust the tape toward Jim, feeling like a little kid as he did so.

Jim frowned again, but took the tape. "What's this?"

Blair blinked, his mind suddenly going blank. "Just watch the tape, Jim," he whispered, then turned and headed for the door. 

"Where are you going?" Jim demanded, although his tone was much softer. 

"I'll be back. I just want you to have some time to process this on your own."

Before Jim could agree or disagree, Blair left, practically flinging himself down the stairs. Once he stepped onto Prospect, he stopped, unsure where to go. Andrew had gone for cappuccino while he had watched the tape, but he knew caffeine was the last thing his system needed. He glanced at his watch, then decided a walk was what he needed. Turning left, he headed for the harbor.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Blair looked at his watch again. It had been forty minutes since he left the loft. He closed his eyes, shaking his head over his cowardice. But knowing he couldn't postpone the inevitable, he headed home.

"Jim," he called out as soon as he opened the door. 

Silence greeted him. The loft was dark as if no one had been there for hours. The vegetables which he had left on the cutting board were gone. 

"Jim," he whispered, even though he knew he was alone. 

Rejection.

Had he really expected anything different?

He shook his head. Not really. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, recognizing the lie immediately.

"Hey, why break a trend?" he tried to say cheerfully, but his voice cracked. 

How many times had Naomi promised him a family? How many times had she involved a man in their lives, the man's family, only to leave because commitment cramped her style? How many times had potential brothers and sisters been torn away from him? 

Why should this situation be any different?

He unconsciously pressed one hand over his heart, hoping to ease the pain.

Because this time it hadn't been Naomi's decision.

This time he was the one being rejected.

He swayed, falling back against the front door. 

"Okay, first things first," he whispered, straightening against the door, determined not to feel sorry for himself. He moved quickly to his room and stuffed an empty backpack with a pair of jeans, underwear, a couple of shirts, his toothbrush and deodorant. He scanned the room, and picked up his laptop and a couple of text books, then picked up his other pack and moved back into the front room. Dropping his things on the table, he found a piece of paper, flipped it over and rummaged in his pack for a pen. 

I, Blair Sandburg, do hereby transfer and convey all interest in Ellison Corporation to James Joseph Ellison. 

He quickly signed and dated the document, gathered up his belongings and moved to the front door. He would come back when Jim was at work and get the rest of his things. Best to make a clean break of things. He was suddenly glad he hadn't put off talking with Harlan. Switching dissertation topics was now more advantageous than ever. He would leave Jim all of his sentinel notes and observations to do with as he willed. It was the least he could do for blood. He'd write Jim an email and explain the switch, to let Jim know his secret was safe.

It was for the best.

He had Naomi, anything more would be an embarrassment of riches. 

Right?

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Blair paced back and forth in front of his desk, knowing if he stayed in the little room, posing as an office, he would never be able to quiet the demons whispering in his ear.

Research. 

He smiled, relieved, grateful to be able to channel his energy in another direction. If the committee accepted his change of topics, and he believed they would given that the primary subject was no longer available, he knew his life was going to be spent in the library for the next several weeks. He might as well get a jump-start on the process. With a goal in mind, he quickly gathered his backpack and headed for the catacombs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Blair," a warm male voice sing-songed gently in his ear.

Blair floated languidly in the hazy mist between the world of wakefulness and morpheous. "Hmmm?"

"Why are you here?"

"Research," he mumbled.

"It's midnight."

"Hmmm."

"You need to go home."

"No home. No family."

_What's he talking about?_

_I don't know._

_"Blair, you need to come home."_

"No home. Jim's gone. Didn't want a brother."

_Oh, shit._

_What?_

_I wasn't there when he got home._

_So? You left him a note. He even wrote on the back of it._

_I doubt he read it._

_Well, wake him up._

_No, wait, Stephen._

_What?_

_We need to ask him a few more questions._

_What? He's not even awake._

_I know, but when he's in this state he always tells the truth. It's better than sodium pentothal._

_Are you serious?_

_Yeah, watch._

"Blair?"

"Hmmm?"

"Who sent me the stripper for my birthday?"

"Stephen did, along with the guys."

"Did you chip in any money?"

"Ten bucks. It was all I had."

_Damn, that's scary. Will he remember he ratted out his buddies?_

_Doubtful._

_I'll have to remember this trick._

"Blair."

"Hmmm?"

"Do you want to be my brother?"

"More than anything."

_Could he be any more adorable?_

_Adorable? Did you say adorable?_

_I bet he was a cute kid._

_Yeah, he was. Naomi showed me pictures once._

_Naomi. That bitch..._

_Let's not go down that path right now. Okay?_

_Sorry._

"Blair."

"Hmmm?"

"I know you want to be Jim's brother, but do you want to my brother too?"

"Yes."

_I'm keeping him._

_What?_

_I don't care what you say, Jimmy. I'm taking him home._

_Over my dead body._

_Well, I, at least, want visitation rights._

_I think we can arrange something._

_Shouldn't we wake him up?_

_Yeah. I think we should. But be prepared, Blair is a master at misdirection. Just remember, he's already told us what he wants._

_I'll remember._

_He can be aggravating._

_More than you?_

_Doubtful._

_Then I'm not worried._

"Blair."

"Hmmm?"

"Time to get up."

"Five more minutes."

Jim laughed. "Come on, buddy. You need to wake up."

Warm hands gently massaged his shoulders and neck, pulling him against the hard wooden back of his chair. He cried out as the blood rushed through his sleepy muscles.

"You're okay. You just need to wake up.

Blair shook his head to clear his vision, then turned in his chair to see Jim and Stephen standing behind him. His brows knitted momentarily in confusion, but his memory quickly returned. He stood abruptly, spinning to face them; however, his feet got tangled in his backpack straps and he lurched forward.

Both men reached for him, holding him in place as he unraveled his feet. 

"Is he always this graceful?" Stephen asked in a teasing voice.

"Hell, this is nothing. You should have seen him after I waxed the floor a couple of months ago."

Stephen laughed. "Says the man who drops his gun all the time." 

"You know, you're spending _way_ too much time with Henri and Rafe."

"Best way to get the dirt on you, bro."

Blair leaned against the desk behind him and held up his hands to indicate that he was fine when his brothers released him. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked quietly.

"Looking for you, what else?" Jim frowned, yet his tone was teasing.

"Why?"

"Don't you think we need to talk about Pop's little revelation?"

"No," Blair said, then flinched at the sullenness of his tone. 

"Well, we think we do," Jim countered.

"You didn't seem to think so earlier."

Stephen grinned impishly as he held up the piece of paper with Blair's note on it. He turned it around and flashed the other side at Blair.

_Blair. I called Stephen. Was on his way. Had a flat tire. Going to pick him up. Be back by 8 p.m. Jim._

Blair dropped his gaze and worried his lower lip with his teeth. 

With great deliberation, Stephen tore the piece of paper into tiny bits. "I think I need a chance to woo you before you just willy-nilly give your stock to Jim. I mean, I demand equal time after all."

Blair looked up at the dark haired man. 

"I always wanted to have a little brother," Stephen said quietly. "You know, someone I could torture." 

Jim chuckled. "You realize that not only are you no longer the little brother, Stevie, you're now the _middle_ brother."

"Well, fuck." Steve breathed out in exasperation. "Isn't life just grand? But hey," he said, brightening, "That means I get to pick on _him._ I mean, you've been picking on him for almost three years. I demand equal time."

Blair frowned as he watched the exchange before him, his sleepy brain not comprehending what was being said. After a few more moments of nattering at each other, the two older men returned their attention back to him.

"You know, I feel a little left out," Stephen said quietly. "I mean, if you're a sentinel and he's a guide, what in the hell does that make me?"

"What?" Blair breathed out in shock.

Jim stepped forward and laid a hand on Blair's shoulder. "I told Stephen about my abilities six months ago. I thought...I thought he had a right to know. I was worried about Annie, that she might have inherited some of the family genes, you know?"

"And you didn't tell me?"

"At the time..." Jim started, but Blair held up his hand.

"Hey, your life. Right?" He bent over to pick up his backpack, then turned to cram his notebooks into the sack." You were telling your family. No need to explain."

"I was telling _our_ family."

"No, you weren't, Jim."

"Sandburg..."

"That's right. Sandburg. Not Ellison." Blair viciously yanked on the straps and hoisted the pack over his shoulder. "I thought we were family before, Jim. Obviously, I was wrong." Blair tried to push his way past the older man, but Stephen blocked his path. 

Stephen growled menacingly. "You're not going anywhere until we get this straightened out, kid." 

"What? Now, all of a sudden, you're interested in a relationship with me? Get real, Stephen. You barely tolerated me before. I was just someone standing in your way to get back to Jim. You had to play nice with me and you did; but don't think for a second I don't know how much you resent me."

"God, damn it, Sandburg," Jim shouted in exasperation.

"No, Jim," Stephen whispered, holding one finger up in his older brother's face. "He's right."

"What?" Jim demanded.

"At first, Jimmy. Only at first. When you were investigating Ben's murder you were doing things so by the book you weren't even remotely approachable. And yet, you seemed to flaunt Blair in front of me every chance you got, as if showing me what I'd missed. And it was easier to be mad at Blair than you. But after a while," Stephen turned and faced the younger man, "I got to know you. You're smart, you're funny and you keep this Neanderthal in line. I haven't resented you in a long time, Blair; and a big part of that is due to your grace in dealing with me when I was being such a jerk." 

Blair swallowed hard, but refused to make eye contact. "I need to get out of here."

"Sorry," Stephen said softly. "No can do."

"Look, you can't keep me here." Blair growled, trying to push his way through again, but the rock in front of him refused to budge.

"What's going on in that brain of yours, Professor?" Jim asked gently, removing Blair's backpack from his shoulder.

Blair spun around, grabbing for his bag. 

"Come on, Blair, talk to us." Stephen shoved him forward a little bit, into Jim chest.

"What are you afraid of, Blair?" Jim asked, pushing him back into Stephen, while dropping the backpack behind him on the desk. 

Blair tried to stay upright, but the two men kept pushing him back and forth between them, demanding he talk. He was tired, cold and hungry, and suddenly having flashbacks of seventh grade. An ache gathered deep within him and by some unspoken command he roared, releasing all the pain and misery within him. 

"Why didn't he want me?" he shouted, collapsing, but the cement didn't bang his shins as he was expecting. Instead, he found himself held tightly between the two older men. "Why?" he cried out in pain. "Why?"

"Shhh, Blair, shhh," Jim said quietly, embracing him tighter. 

"It wasn't you, Blair. It wasn't," Stephen shushed from the other side. 

The two older men knelt, bringing Blair with them as they did. 

"You have to understand, Blair," Stephen whispered. "My mother was a bitch. She walked out on us about the time you were born. Dad tried to raise us on his own. It was a complete and utter disaster. What did men know about parenting skills back in the seventies? I have to give him credit though, he did try. He couldn't have handled another child."

"But later..." Blair's chest heaved, trying to contain all the emotions desperately seeking a way out. 

"Later, you were your own man," Jim said quietly. "What need did you have of a father? He had already blown it with Stephen and me. I think he was scared."

"But this past Christmas, Blair, he treated you as one of his own. Don't you remember the presents he bought you? And how he couldn't stop listening to your stories? He was trying to get to know you. And for Pop, he was trying hard. At the time, I just figured he was looking for an _in_ to get to Jimmy. But now, I can see the attempt for what it really was."

"He did love you, Blair," Jim insisted quietly. "He was scared, so scared that he would blow it again, scared that by blowing it he'd lose us all a second time. I don't condone what he did, but I understand it."

"So do I," Stephen said quietly.

Blair's fists clenched in both men's shirts. "I don't want his stock or his money."

"I know. It doesn't make up for not having a father all those years, but don't reject the only thing he had left to give," Jim said quietly. 

"Give us a chance, Blair. We're not half bad," Stephen teased, elbowing the younger man playfully. "We're not half good, but we're not half bad either."

"Professor? Are you okay?" a concerned earnest voice asked from nearby. 

All three men looked around in shock at the wide-eyed blonde standing between two sets of shelves. 

"Yeah, Kelly. I'm okay."

"Do you want me to call the police, Professor?"

"I am a cop," Jim growled.

"Then why are you sitting on Professor Sandburg?" the girl demanded.

"Hey, they're not heavy. They're my brothers."

"Oh. My. God. He did _not_ just say that," Stephen said incredulously. 

"I think he did. I don't believe it, but I'm pretty sure he did."

"You realize what that means?"

"Noogies for Blair."

"Kelly, run! Get help." Blair laughed, desperately trying to get off the floor, not realizing the girl had already left, shaking her head in fond exasperation.

The men rolled around for several minutes, each trying to get a better hold on the others. Finally, from the bottom of the pile, Stephen asked, "Hey, how did that student get a drop on you, Sentinel-boy?"

"Yeah, Jim, how did she get the drop on you?"

"What is this? Pick on Jim time?"

Blair and Stephen looked at each other, then at Jim, then back at each other. "Yes."

Jim sighed heavily, which made the two younger men laugh.

"You guys want to get off of me now," Stephen whined, wiggling to dislodge them.

"No," Jim and Blair said together. 

"You know," Blair said quietly. "I could, maybe, get used to this." He looked shyly up at Jim, then down at Stephen, bouncing once for effect.

"You'd better, cause we're not going anywhere."

"Except to the emergency room," came a quiet whimper from the bottom of pile.

"Is he always this much of whiner?” Blair asked as Jim stood up, taking Jim's hand and allowing the older man to pull him to his feet. 

"Yes, like you wouldn't believe."

Both Blair and Jim reached down to help Stephen up. They stood quietly, each grinning shyly at the other. 

"Family?" Jim asked, putting his hand in the center of their little circle.

Stephen nodded and put his hand on top of Jim's. "Family."

"Family." Blair put his hand on top of Stephen's, then laughed as each of them tried to get their hand on top of the pile. 

Maybe an embarrassment of riches wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

~*~*~ End ~*~*~


	2. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven learns that having two brothers can be incredibly stressful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgments: My thanks to Lola and Jael for catching the booboos, and to Autumn and Veronica for their encouragement.
> 
> *-*-*-*-*-*

"So, he's holding the dripping baby out at arm's length and giving me these huge pleading eyes to rescue him," Blair Sandburg said, demonstrating not only the physical aspect of the picture he was trying to paint, but the facial expressions as well. 

"Did you? Rescue him that is?" Steven Ellison asked, gasping for breath as he leaned heavily against the grocery cart.

Blair walked down the aisle a bit further before he turned and graced his older brother with an impish smile. "Eventually."

"Eventually?"

Blair shrugged. "Well, after we discussed the suspension of certain house rules."

Steven staggered forward, his face splitting with a huge laughing smile, and wrapped his arms around the younger man's shoulders. "Have I ever told you that you're my hero?"

"Well, timing is everything when negotiating with Jim." Blair brought his arm up around Steven's waist and squeezed once, before stepping back to look at the organic pasta one more time. "Are you going to whine if I try to feed you healthy food?"

"Hell, no." Steven grinned. "I'm just glad you're willing to feed me at all. With Claire taking Annie back to see her mom I was looking at a week of fast food." He shuddered dramatically at the thought. "So when will Jim be back from the conference?"

Blair picked up a bag of spinach linguini. "Probably sometime Sunday afternoon."

"Which means..."

"We're eating in front of the television, of course."

Both men chuckled at the thought of breaking one of Jim's house rules. 

"He'll know we did it though, won't he?" Steven asked, his eyebrows knitted together, although he continued to grin.

Blair tossed the pasta to Steven. "Of course. But after the fact, what's he gonna do about it?"

Steven leisurely followed Blair down the aisle. "So why didn't you go with Jim?"

Blair squatted in front of the shelves and picked up a small package of spumanti rice. "Well, as the newest anthropology professor I don't have a lot of leave accumulated yet." He stood and tossed the package to his brother. "While the university has been fairly accommodating with my consulting part-time with the department, they aren't bending over backwards encouraging me to take extra time off, especially during my first semester." 

"Would it be selfish to admit that I'm glad you didn't go?" Steven asked, suddenly shy.

Blair grinned warmly at him. "Not at all. I'm having fun too."

Steven relaxed minutely. "It's not that I don't want Jimmy here--"

"You don't have to explain, Steven," Blair said, turning and grasping the end of basket. "I know you and Jim have had some rough times in the past and you both are a little protective, making sure that the other doesn't make the same mistakes with me. While I appreciate you two being careful, it has to be exhausting." When he saw his brother relax even more, Blair added, "Besides, you've both done a lot of growing up since Jim joined the Army, and I'm a big boy myself. If you piss me off, I'll knock you on your ass. Deal?"

Steven's smile returned full force. "Deal. Hey, I thought you were this big pacifist and everything?"

"Well, I prefer finding non-violent alternatives, but when all else fails..." Blair let his sentence fade, stepping backward instead of going around the aisle corner.

Steven barely missed hitting him with the cart. "Hanging with Jim--" He stopped when Blair raised his arm suddenly, one finger being held up for silence. "What?" he whispered. 

Blair looked back at him, an emotion Steven couldn't quite pin down flickering over his face. "The store's being robbed."

"What?"

Blair pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and peeked around the corner. "I want you to go out the back of the store and call 911. Tell them there's a robbery in progress."

"What about you?" Steven hissed quietly as he accepted the phone. 

"I'm just going to make sure things don't get out of hand before patrol gets here," Blair said softly, then tentatively looked around the corner again, toward the front of the store.

Steven swallowed hard. "I can't just leave you here. Jimmy would kill me."

Blair turned toward his brother and frowned. "Steven, this is what Jim and I do. It's our job. He would have my ass if something happened to you though. Now, get going, and take anyone you come across out back with you. Tell dispatch there are two men with sawed off shot guns and ski masks. Tell them to come in silent. Time is of the essence, man. I'm counting on you to get the cops here in a hurry."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Steven clenched his fists in helplessness as he listened to the dispatcher type the information into her computer. "It's already been five minutes," he complained quietly.

"I understand, sir. The nearest available unit is approximately two minutes away."

"My brother's still in there."

"Can you tell me your name, sir?"

Steven squeezed his eyes shut, trying to reign back the shout building in the back of his throat. "I told you, my name is Steven Ellison. There is a robbery in progress at Price's Market at 35th and Holmes. There are two men in ski masks with sawed off shot guns." The sound of a shotgun firing twice echoed behind him. "Oh my god, they've fired their weapons."

"Sir. Mr. Ellison--"

Steven snapped the cell phone shut and turned to move back into the building. A police car skidded to a stop between him and the store. 

"Shots fired!" he called out in a restrained shout to the officers who exploded from the car. 

One officer raised his hand, indicating that Steven should stay back, before he followed his partner into the building. 

Steven jogged around the outside of the grocery store, adrenaline surging through his body. Another police car pulled up to the front of the store and officers scrambled inside with their weapons drawn before Steven could reach the front windows. Steven watched in silence, but couldn't see past the paint encrusted glass. 

"The hell with this," he mumbled to himself as he moved forward.

A third patrol car screamed to a stop in front of the little grocery store, but Steven ignored them. 

"Sir, you'll need to step back. Sir," a young, uniformed, Hispanic woman said with great authority as she raced in front of him. 

"You don't understand. My brother's in there. Shots were fired. I have to make sure he's okay. I have to--"

"Sir, I can't let you go in there. It's a crime scene."

"I don't give a rat's ass about your crime scene." Steven glared down at the tiny woman. "My baby brother is in there and--"

"Steven," a familiar voice called out. 

Steven stopped, relief flooding him as he looked into the dark blue eyes of his brother. Blair smiled tentatively and moved toward them. 

"Is this clown giving you trouble, Marguerite?" Blair asked lightly, even as he laid a comforting hand on Steven's arm. 

"Nothing I can't handle, Blair."

"How about I take him off your hands for a little bit?"

The officer frowned at Steven for a moment, nodded, then turned and moved into the store. 

"Yo, lighten up, bro. She was only doing her job," Blair said softly, gently squeezing Steven's arm. 

Steven shook his head. "I don't know how you do it, Blair. Those gun shots took ten years off my life. How do you and Jim do this day in and day out?"

"Well, believe it or not, this really isn't a typical day for us. Police work is about ninety percent boredom and ten percent action."

"You can't expect me to seriously believe--"

"Okay, in Jim's case it's about sixty percent boredom and forty percent action," Blair cut him off before he could protest. 

"What happened in there?"

Blair opened his mouth to speak, but his face paled and he wobbled slightly. "I need to sit down. I don't feel so good."

Steven moved quickly in front of him and took both arms, intending to guide Blair to the curb, but the police observer gasped as Steven's hands clenched his upper arm. 

"Oh my God, you've been shot!" Steven gasped, wrapping his arm around Blair's shoulders and easing him to the curb. "I NEED AN AMBULANCE!" he shouted as he stood and turned toward the grocery store, before kneeling beside his brother and gently removing his outer flannel shirt. 

A tall blond officer suddenly appeared beside them. "What's going on?"

"He's been shot!" Steven growled, even as he removed his pocket knife from his pants pocket and cut the blood-soaked, left sleeve.

"Look, Steven, it's not that bad," Blair protested. "No, don't do that! Damn, Steven, this is my favorite Henley. Dave. It's not that bad, really. It's just a flesh wound," Blair said urgently, trying to keep the officer from speaking into his mike. "Please don't call for an ambulance."

The officer hesitated. 

"If you call for an ambulance, then Simon's going to get involved and if Simon gets involved then--"

"Too late," a deep voice interrupted from behind. 

Steven looked up into the dark face of the Captain of Major Crimes. Blair sighed wearily and laid his forehead against Steven's shoulder. 

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Simon rumbled, not unkindly.

"He's been shot," Steven said, pointing down to Blair's wound, suddenly feeling like a teenager who'd been caught breaking curfew because his baby brother had been hurt. 

"It's only a graze," Blair countered, lifting his head and frowning at Steven.

"You're bleeding like a stuck pig."

"Damn it, Steven," Blair growled. 

Simon moved around the pair, squatted beside Blair, and looked at the wound. 

"Please, Simon," Blair whispered. "If an ambulance is called, then Jim's going to find out for sure. You know how he gets."

Steven watched the captain's face with fascination. Anger was the first emotion to appear, but segued into concern, then resignation. "You'll go to Kenji's clinic?"

"Yes, of course," Blair promised fervently. "Right away."

"You'll still need to fill out your reports," Simon said reluctantly.

"I've already given my statement to Charles, inside."

"All right," Simon said, clearly not happy.

Blair immediately looked up at the young patrol officer standing by them. "Dave?"

"My lips are sealed. I still remember the sixth of July."

"I owe you, man."

The officer grinned. "Owe me enough to, say, give me the secret recipe for your queso dip?"

Blair winced dramatically. "That's dirty pool."

Dave made a big point of examining his fingernails. 

Blair sighed. "All right, but only if you promise not to share it with anyone else."

"Deal!" the officer said quickly, obviously knowing a good deal when he got one. "Take care, Sandburg. I gotta go help Charlie finish up."

Blair waved him off with a good-natured sigh. 

"I'll take the recipe as well, Sandburg," Simon growled.

Blair opened his mouth to protest, but one look at Simon's face and Steven understood why his brother remained silent. 

"Yes, sir," the observer said quietly.

Simon stood, grinning, but sobered immediately. "Can you take him to the clinic, Steven?"

"Yes, sir," Steven said quietly, repeating his brother's words. 

"Any chance we can get our groceries before--" Blair's words died under the weight of Simon's glare. "Never mind."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Blair walked wearily into the loft behind Steven and closed the door behind him. When he turned he was engulfed in a massive bear hug.

"Steven?" he asked quietly, confused by the sudden display of emotion.

"I thought I had lost you," his brother said hoarsely, squeezing him tighter, although being very careful not to jar his left arm. 

"I'm--" he started, but stopped when Steven shook his head. Slowly, he brought his arms around his brother's waist and returned the embrace. 

"I can't lose you. Not now," Steven choked out, after a moment of silence.

"You're not going to lose me, Stevie," Blair said quietly, feeling a wave of love surge through him, touched by the fact that his brother was so obviously upset.

"I mean...I know how dangerous Jimmy's job is...and I know you work with him...but I never understood...never realized..."

"Shhh." Blair brought his good arm up higher on Steven's back and held him tight. "Everything's okay. I promise."

"We just found you," Steven cried plaintively. 

"I know, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Steven held him for several minutes longer, then loosened his grip, sniffed and straightened. "I want your god damn queso recipe too."

Blair chuckled. "Okay. We can make it a secret family recipe or something like that."

*-*-*-*-*-*

"Steven, I don't want you to take this wrong, but go home."

Steven looked over at his brother, who had been sitting at the kitchen table grading papers, but was now looking at him with amused affection. "What?"

"You heard me. You're a nervous wreck. Jim's going to know something's up just by looking at you."

"But...but..."

"Stevie, it's already healed. It's nothing more than a big scab. I've gone to work every day this week. We went to the Jags game last night. Come on. It's over. It's done. All your jitters are going to do is upset Jim and put him in Blessed Protector Overdrive. I hate when he goes all BP. So, please, cut your baby brother a break a go home."

"I don't like lying to Jimmy," Steven said quietly. "I promised myself I would never lie to him again."

Blair ran both hands back through his hair. "You aren't lying to him. You're just not blurting out everything you know the moment he walks through the door." 

"Blair--"

"Look, you can tell him the next time you see him. Okay? That'll give us at least another week. You, Claire and Annie are coming over for dinner next Saturday, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, we'll find some time to tell him then. Not in front of Annie, of course, but when we're barbecuing or something."

Steven frowned, but Blair turned pleading eyes on him. "Damn," he whispered, wondering how in the hell Jim ever managed to make the kid do something he didn't want to do. "All right."

"You won't regret this."

Steven shook his head. "I already do."

*-*-*-*-*-*

"I can't believe it was really that boring," Blair laughed as he put Jim's bag in the back seat of his Volvo.

"Believe me, I was in constant danger of zoning out. I swear, next time, no matter what, I'm dragging your sorry ass with me, consequences be damned," Jim Ellison promised.

Blair grinned brilliantly at the older man. "I missed you too."

"So what did you and Steven do while I was serving my sentence?"

Blair laughed as they got into the car. "Man, now is probably not the time to tell you about the court side tickets to the Jags game, huh?"

*-*-*-*-*-*

"Come in," Steven called absently as a knock resounded on his office door. He finished the paragraph he was reading, then looked up. "Jim! What are you doing here?" Steven pushed himself off his chair, circled the desk and hugged his older brother.

Jim took the chair Steven indicated when they broke from their embrace. "I just wanted to see how you and Blair got along last week. It's the first time you two have had any sort of one-on-one time since we've learned about him being an Ellison."

Steven swallowed hard then moved back around the desk. Rubbing his hand over his mouth and chin, he sat down hard. "You know, don't you?"

"Not the particulars."

"I wanted to tell..." Steven let the rest of the sentence die off, knowing it sounded like he was blaming Blair. 

"But he asked you not too," Jim finished for him, seeming to understand.

Steven nodded, miserably. 

"So, having any second thoughts about missing out on his growing up years?"

Steven looked up and saw the soft smile on his brother's face. "You don't think he was like this growing up, do you?"

Jim nodded with a smirk. "I've talked with some of his friends at the university. They've told me stories that would make your hair curl."

"So why all the fuss about not telling you?"

Jim shrugged. 

"He says you go all BP."

Steven watched as his brother snorted silently with laughter. "Hey, I'm the oldest; it's what I do."

"Well, I, for one, can't take the stress," Steven admitted quietly.

"So what was it?" Jim asked.

"A robbery."

"And?"

"He took them out with some Campbell Soup cans."

"What flavor?"

"What?"

"What flavor?"

Steven shook his head in disbelief. "I don't know. Is it important?"

Jim shrugged, a small grin played at the corners of his mouth. "So what happened?"

"He got 'grazed', as he put it."

"Left upper arm?"

Steven nodded. "It really wasn't that bad, although it bled a lot. That scared me. But it was practically healed by Saturday."

"He didn't put it on his PD insurance."

Steven ran a hand back through his hair. "No. He was afraid if he did you'd see it. He wanted to pay cash for it, but I paid for it instead. He wasn't happy, but he finally agreed to let me do it."

Jim nodded. "You get anything out of it?"

Steven shrugged. "His queso recipe."

"No way."

Steven nodded.

"He won't even give me that recipe." Jim sighed, then knitted his eyebrows together. "Who else got it?"

"Some cop name Dave and Simon." Steven frowned for a second. "How did you know others got the recipe too?"

"Because you haven't had his queso yet."

"Ah, detective work."

Jim shrugged, but smiled.

"So what are we going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he said I could tell you on Saturday. But now that you know..."

"We'll just keep it our little secret for now. I, for one, want to see the brat sweat bullets."

Steven smiled. "You know, I wouldn't mind seeing that myself."

"Saturday, then?" Jim asked as he stood.

Steven stood also. "Saturday."

They shook hands. 

When Jim reached the door, Steven called out after him, "Jim?"

Jim turned and smiled at him. "We're good."

"Thank you." Steven swallowed hard. "Is it going to be like this a lot?"

"With Blair?"

"Yeah?"

"Afraid so. But it's no worse than having a little brother accused of murder."

Steven laughed. "There's nothing easy about being an Ellison, is there?"

"Nope. Afraid not."

Steven sighed, then chuckled. "Well, at least he fits right in."

"That he does, bro. That he does."

\--End--


	3. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things aren't as they appear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After my last story in this series, I was asked "not to take the easy way out" with Simon finding out about Jim, Blair and Steven being brothers. So if you don't like the direction this story went, blame Bruce.
> 
> This story is dedicated to Laurq because she asked for it, publicly might I add. 
> 
> Rating: R (A few bad words at the beginning)
> 
> Acknowledgments: Many thanks, as always, to Lola for catching my mistakes. However, I always tweak after I send a story to her, so any mistakes are my own. Also many thanks to Laura for her insights.
> 
> *-*-*-*-*-*

"So Jim says, 'What's with the duck?'. Then I say, 'Surely, you don't call that negotiating? I mean, maybe the duck has a name. Maybe he's trying to rescue a pet or something," Blair Sandburg said, waving a hand for emphasis.

Tears streamed down Rafe's face as he gasped for breath. "So...so what did Jim say to that?"

"He said, 'Goddamn it, Sandburg, who gives a fuck if the duck has a name or not?' He then shouts at the perp. 'The fucking duck doesn't have a name, does it?' And the perp is standing there all wide-eyed because he can't believe we're actually arguing about the duck and says, 'Actually, his name is Harold.'"

Rafe clenched his fists, pounded on the table, and screamed with laughter. Blair couldn't help the smile that found its way to his face. He looked down at his check, trying to ignore the stares and grins being sent their way by the other customers in the restaurant. Six-fifty, plus a dollar fifty tip. He looked in his wallet and calculated the expenses for the rest of the day. Good, he'd still have enough to buy Jim a slice of Alice's apple pie. 

"A slice of apple pie to go, please," he quietly told the waitress when she came by to pick up their money. She looked over at Rafe, smiled the way people do while watching someone make a fool of themselves, then turned to get the pie and their change.

"Why are you getting pie to go?" Rafe asked, sniffing and wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Jim had a deposition at eleven. I figured if you took this back for him it would appease the foul beast that will be coming back to the bullpen."

"You two are so married."

"What? Like you and H aren't? Give me a break."

Rafe shrugged and chuckled under his breath. "So who's the chick you're meeting here?"

Blair looked out the window and noticed the lady in question get out of a car in front of the restaurant. "Just someone who's stolen my heart."

Rafe sputtered as the front door opened. "Uncle Blair! Uncle Blair!" an excited voice squealed in delight. Blair barely had time to scoot from the booth and stand before he was catching the blonde haired angel flinging herself into his arms. 

"And how's my favorite lady this fine afternoon?"

"Good. Wonderful. Fantastic. I've been good all week. Mama said we can have the whoooooooole afternoon together!" the cherub declared, throwing her arms around Blair's neck and squeezing him hard. 

"Air. Help! Air," he teased. When she finally let go, both leaned back a bit then rubbed their noses together. "Hey, Claire," he greeted Steven's wife warmly, and kissed her on the cheek. "You know Rafe, don't you?"

Rafe scrambled from the booth and graciously took Claire's outstretched hand. "Of course. It's so nice to see you again, Claire. What brings you and Annie by this afternoon?"

"Hello, Brian. I have a meeting this afternoon and Blair has graciously offered to watch Annie for me," the beautiful blonde woman replied as she sent an affectionate smile toward Blair and her daughter. "In fact," she murmured, looking at her watch, "I'm running just a tad bit behind."

"Don't worry, I got your back, sis. I'll bring Annie home after dinner." Then growling lowly, he nuzzled the eight-year-old in his arms. "Or I could just have her for dinner."

Annie squealed with laughter as Blair tickled her. Claire shook her head again, darted forward and gave both her daughter and Blair a kiss. "You two behave, you hear?" she warned, trying for ominous but her smile ruined the effect. As she ran for the door, she called out, "You have my numbers; right, Blair?"

"Yes, now get out of here." He laughed and shooed her away with the flick of his wrist. 

The waitress returned with their change and the pie.

"You'll make sure Jim gets this, right?" Blair asked, giving the detective the evil eye and keeping the Styrofoam container just out of reach. "Because I know a really interesting Haitian curse..."

"Yeah, yeah, just gimme the pie, Sandburg."

"Thanks, Rafe." Blair handed his friend the container, then gave his full attention to the angel in his arms. "What do you say to us blowing this joint, Princess?"

"I'm down with that," she said, then pointed imperiously toward the front door. "Uncle Blair?"

"Yeah, hon?"

"How come you haven't changed your name yet? I think Ellison is such a pretty name."

Blair shot a look back at Rafe, but the detective was still by the table putting on his jacket. "Well, you see, hon, it's like this..."

*-*-*-*-*-*

"Hey, H," Rafe quietly greeted his partner as he took off his jacket and spread it over the back of his chair.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

Rafe looked nervously around the bullpen, then stared pointedly at Ellison's desk before he looked back at his partner. "You know the age old question of 'are they or aren't they'?"

Henri's eyes automatically flicked to the empty desk across the room. "Yeah?"

"I'm pretty sure they are."

"No way, babe. No way."

"Way. So way."

"Bri, you can't be--"

Rafe held up his hand, cutting off his partner's protest. "I haven't said anything to anyone, other than you. But, H, I just got back from lunch with Sandburg."

"And?"

"He had me bring a piece of pie back for Ellison."

Henri shook his head. "That don't mean nothing. The boys are tight. You know that. In fact, why in the hell didn't you bring me back a piece?"

Rafe laughed at the mock growl. "There's more."

Henri looked around the empty bullpen once again. "So, spill." 

"Sandburg called Claire 'sis.' And," he paused dramatically, "I heard Annie ask him why he hasn't changed his name to Ellison yet."

"What?"

"I know."

"But...but..."

"Think about it, partner. They're still who they've always been, but don't tell me you didn't notice a shift in their dynamic about three months ago. I mean, Ellison has always touched Sandburg, but now it's like he can't keep his hands off him; and Sandburg's been wearing a look of contentment lately...like he's won the lottery or something."

Henri rubbed both of his hands over his face and up over his bald head. He let out a long slow breath. "So?"

"So, nothing. I just...I don't know... feel better now that I know."

"Know what?" Joel Taggert asked, as he walked by their desks on the way to his own. 

"I...uh...er...that is..."

Joel stopped suddenly in his tracks and grinned, almost ferally, at the two younger men. "Ohhh, office gossip. Come on, spill."

Rafe looked desperately over at his partner, who merely shrugged.

"Well, you see, Cap, it's like this..."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Simon Banks let out a long repressed sigh and closed his eyes against the shudder which wracked his tall frame. It had been too damn close this time. Just way too damn close for his peace of mind. After four years of this unusual partnership, one would think it would get better, easier somehow, but it never truly did.

What cosmic karma was revisiting Ellison and Sandburg? They must have been truly horrible men in a previous life if they were working so hard to overcome everything thrown at them in this one. Aw, hell. He shook his head in disgust. He was beginning to sound like Sandburg. 

By all accounts, the latest round of cosmic nip and tuck had been a Mexican standoff, with Ellison in the hot seat this time instead of his partner. Some whacked out tweaker decided he needed to score some cash before he came crashing down to Earth again. How better to grab some easy green than to rob a convenience store? However, the perp hadn't counted on some of his hostages being cops. He apparently had decided to make a surgical strike and take out the largest man in the store, hoping to intimidate everyone else into submission.

Unfortunately, the largest man in the store was one James Ellison. A witness who had been standing in line to pay for her gas said there had been no warning. One moment she's smiling over the antics of the two men in front of her, she said they reminded her of her sons, and the next a shot had rung out and blood was blooming over the front of Ellison's shirt. 

In the seconds of confusion that followed, the perp had a gun dug into Ellison's temple and was basically keeping Jim on his feet by the chokehold he had around the detective's neck. 

At the same time, Sandburg had his gun drawn and pressed against the perp's forehead. After Blair had obtained his doctorate and been made an official consultant to the department, the Chief had insisted that Blair take weapons training and be given a sidearm. Simon closed his eyes. While Sandburg grumbled about the gun, it may have been the only thing that saved Jim's life this day.

His witness, one Sharon Brand, had described the chilling scene. "It was as if time stood still and only these three men existed," she had whispered to him, long after the ambulance had left the scene. "No one, and I mean no one, blinked or even breathed. The druggie tried to sound calm, but his voice was shaking badly, like he was starting to crashing. He told the young man if he didn't lower his weapon, he'd kill his friend.

"But the young man didn't lower his weapon. He said in a voice so cold that goosebumps actually raised on my arms, 'If you take what's mine, I'll destroy you.' Before the robber could speak again, the young man added, almost casually, 'After I kill you, I'll go to your home. One of the advantages of working for the cops is that I have access to all of its databases, so finding it will be childishly simple. Once I get to your place, I'll kill your dog. He'll probably be happy to see me, since you haven't been home for a while; so he won't understand the knife I'll use to gut him. Then, I'll wait until your old lady comes home. I'll let her find the body, then I'll use her until she'll think you were god's gift to all men. She'll die screaming your name, but it will all be for nothing, since you died in a stupid robbery attempt. Afterward, I'll leave her beside the dog.' 

"I swear, Captain, I have never been so frightened in my entire life. The punk was starting to come down to earth in a big way. He started yelling about how he was a cop, but the young man said he wasn't a cop, that he was a civilian consultant. The tweaker was shaking up a storm, terrified out of his mind, no doubt. It's one thing to say someone's crazy, it's another to actually experience crazy. 

"He started begging the young man to take his gun. The boy did, then he made the robber gently lay his friend down before he cuffed him and had the clerk call 911. 

"He then gathered his friend in his arms and started talking about dials, and hanging in there. He told the older man that he loved him and that he'd better not leave him alone. It was quite a contrast to see love pour out of the same young man who minutes earlier had been so cold and ruthless."

Simon hadn't been particularly surprised that Sandburg had used psychological warfare on the perp. What had surprised him though was how good the kid had been at it. Even hearing the story second hand was enough to make him shudder. 

What had happened to the happy-go-lucky kid who could be counted on to make even the crankiest curmudgeon's smile? The only explanation he could come up with was that the kid had been truly scared, but had somehow realized that he had to control the situation. How better to take charge than to scare the crap out of your opponent? That, no doubt, he had learned from Ellison.

Joel walked up to Simon shaking his head as he went over his witness notes. "Remind me never to get on Sandburg's bad side," he said, grinning up at Simon. 

"The kid did good," Simon agreed, knowing he was going to have to tell Sandburg as soon as an opening presented itself.

"The cause was just, but..."

Simon frowned. "But what?"

"Nothing." Joel shook his head, looking like he had said too much.

"Joel?"

"Look, it's not my place to say anything about the way you run your department, Simon. I mean, you're a good man, an excellent captain. Hell, I'm enjoying being a worker bee under your direction."

"But," Simon prompted, when his friend fell silent. 

"Do you really think you should let them ride together anymore? I mean, times have changed and the old prejudices are falling by the way side. But when Tomas and Dale came out, it was decided to pair them up with other partners. There's just too many--"

"Wait! Wait! Come out?" Simon sputtered. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, man. Do we need to talk."

*-*-*-*-*-*

"Hey," Blair Sandburg said softly, when he noticed the light blue eyes blink open. "How's your pain dial?"

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Guiding a straw to Jim's lips, Blair let the older man take a small sip of water, letting the liquid moisten his parched throat.

"Better?"

Jim nodded. 

Blair put the glass on the small rolling table, eased himself onto the bed beside his brother, and gently caressed Jim's forehead. "What's your setting, man?"

Jim swallowed hard, but the tension in his face began to smooth away. "Three," he whispered. 

Nodding, Blair said, "Leave it there. Don't go down any further than that. You need to listen to what your body's telling you, but don't let it go any higher than that either. If you need help, tell me immediately; no suffering stoically. Do you understand?"

"Stealing my best shtick," Jim whispered. 

"Speaking of stealing, I thought we had a deal. I get to play hostage, you get to do the white knight crap. I don't like these last minute understudy switches. They totally suck, man." 

"Gotta...think on...feet."

"Uh, huh."

Jim tried to smile reassuringly at him.

"It's inconsiderate of you to end up in the hospital, you know? I mean, when I got shot, all I had to do was go to the clinic. And yet, you and Steven made my life hell for nearly two weeks. You know what they say about payback, man. It's a bitch, and now it's named Sandburg."

"Blair..."

"You're going to do what I say when I say. You hear me? No more of this grumpy bastard act. I won't tolerate it anymore." Blair's voice caught and he cleared his throat, ignoring the tears stinging his eyes.

"Blair..."

"I mean it, Jim. You'll eat what I say. You're going to let me drive, and you're going to be goddamned content to sit in a freaking chair and relax."

"Come here, Blair," Jim whispered, raising his left hand and gently sliding it beneath Blair's hair. Blair tried to resist the unspoken command, but when Jim hissed in pain, he allowed the older man to pull his head down until they were forehead to forehead. 

"I'm okay," Jim said, his voice barely audible at all. 

"You were lucky."

Shaking his head, Jim said, "You did a great job taking care of me."

"No, I didn't. I let you get shot."

"Shhhhh." Jim moved his head and pressed his lips to Blair's forehead. 

"Oh, shit," Blair whispered brokenly. "Is this how Steven felt? Remind me to apologize to him, okay?"

Jim crooned softly to him, his hand lightly scratching Blair's back. 

"I mean, your job's always been dangerous, but this...there wasn't any warning. Nothing to prepare for. It shouldn't be, but it's different now. It is and I can't help...I can't..."

"I know. I know." Jim pressed his lips into Blair's hair. "I'm okay. We'll get through this. We will, Chief. Hey, Simon," he greeted their captain as the older man opened the door and peered into the room.

Blair slowly pulled back from Jim. He rubbed his eyes with his sleeve cuffs and sniffed once before he turned to face their captain. "Hey, Simon."

"How are you feeling, Jim?" Simon asked softly as he moved further into the room.

"Wet," Jim said in a teasing voice, smiling tenderly at Blair. 

"Laugh it up, Chuckles. I called Steven. He's flying home even as we speak."

Jim frowned, but instead of the intense warrior Blair knew his brother could be, he said in what could only be described as a whiny tone, "Hey, you made Steven give you a whole week before anyone told..."

"Shut up, Jim.

Simon chuckled. "Well, it looks like Sandburg has everything well in hand."

Blair smiled briefly at the captain, but moved to the window, giving the older men at least the illusion of privacy. 

Simon moved to the side of Jim's bed and carefully sat on the edge. "So, Jim, honestly, how are you feeling?"

"I'm doing okay, Simon. The bullet went straight through. It's actually a miracle it didn't hit Blair on its way out. I'm just not looking forward to being assigned to desk duty for the next month."

"Well, it certainly beats the alternative."

"True."

Blair turned and noticed his captain's gaze intently studying him. Blair frowned, then moved to Jim's bed, opposite Simon. "What is it, Simon?"

The older man dropped his gaze.

"Simon?" Jim asked, as he, too, studied his captain's face.

Simon sighed, wearily. "This isn't the time or place to discuss this." 

"What do you mean?" Blair asked, confused.

"Look, Si-Captain, Blair didn't do anything wrong. I know what he said was a bit extreme, but he controlled the situation. No one else got hurt," Jim said quickly, even as he tried to sit up.

Blair ignored his captain for a moment and placed one hand in the middle of Jim's chest, effectively keeping the older man pinned. "Stay put, Jim."

"But-"

"I mean it. Stay down. I knew what I was saying was extreme even as I said the words, but I'm prepared to deal with the consequences, man. You getting yourself riled up and aggravating your injuries isn't going to help anyone, so stay down," Blair said, his voice getting stronger and more authoritarian as he spoke. 

Jim reluctantly complied, although he turned his head to stare accusingly at Simon. 

"There was nothing wrong with the way you handled the situation, Sandburg. In fact, you did an excellent job," Simon said quietly. "It's almost impossible to deal with a hopped up tweaker, but you managed to break through his drug haze without any further injuries to yourself, Jim or any of the civilians."

"So what's not to discuss?" Jim asked, confused, although he didn't move.

Simon pinched his nose under his glasses and closed his eyes for a moment, then dropped his hand and looked at both men. "I thought we were friends."

"You are. We are," Blair said, hastening to assure him.

"Then why didn't you tell me about..." Simon waved a hand between Jim and Blair. 

"Oh," Blair said quietly.

"Yeah, oh."

Jim brought his good hand up and rubbed it over his own face. "Truth be told, Simon, we're still trying to get used to the idea ourselves. We didn't mean to keep you out of the loop or anything. It's just that it's still hard for us to believe, let alone trying to convince anyone else."

"Well, I don't think you're going to have any problem convincing anyone else. Everybody already seems to be on board," Simon said, trying hard to keep the sarcasm from his voice. 

"What?" Blair asked, shaking his head in confusion. 

Simon rolled his eyes. "Come off it, Sandburg. You two have been glowing for three months now. You work with detectives, for God's sake. It's not like they weren't going to eventually put the clues together. Anyone who stands within ten feet of you guys can tell that you love each other."

"Well, of course, we love each other. What sort of stupid thing is that to say?" Jim asked, frowning. "We always have, it's just that now-"

Simon growled. "You have the freedom to act on the feeling. I know. I get the picture."

"Oh my God." Blair murmured, then looked into Simon's solemn face. "Oh my God." He tried hard to fight down the giggle that rose in his throat, tried to school his face in a mask of seriousness, but failed miserably. The giggle escaped, and grew in to a chuckle, then into a full out guffaw. 

Both Jim and Simon glared at him, which only made him laugh harder. He fought for nearly a minute to stop his laughter, finally having to turn away from both men to do it. When he gained control, he turned toward Jim, focused on the headboard above his brother's head without really looking at the man himself, and absolutely refused to look at Simon. 

"Jim," he whispered, biting back the giggle which threatened to consume him again. 

Jim took his hand, trying to get him to make eye contact, but Blair just shook his head, indicating that he couldn't just yet. "Jim," he repeated, wincing inwardly at the slightly hysterical tone in his voice. "Si...Simon thinks...he thinks...hethinkswe'relovers," he rushed out, letting the laughter spill over him again. 

"What?" Jim asked, stunned.

Blair wiped the tears from his eyes, nodding, even as the laughter erupted from him. 

"He...he thinks we're..."

"Doing the horizontal mambo," Blair's voice raised higher and higher, as he gasped to breathe, but was unable to stop the gales of laughter from wracking his body, "knocking boots, doing the wild thing, slipping each other the pickle, playing-"

"All right! All right! I get the picture," Jim tried to say sternly, but the smile on his face took out any sting there might have been in his words. Looking at Simon, he asked, "So what makes these detectives think we're doing the wild thing?" A small chuckle escaped him and he absolutely refused to look at Blair. 

Simon sighed explosively. "For God's sakes, man, you were kissing him when I walked into the room."

"You were, Jim," Blair agreed, barely keeping a lid on his mirth. 

"And?" Jim demanded, still refusing to look at Blair. 

Simon shook his head. "And Sandburg said 'If you take what's mine, I'll destroy you.' Plus you two can barely keep your hands off each other anymore. And Rafe heard Annie ask Blair why he hadn't changed his name to 'Ellison' yet. What are we supposed to think?"

Blair felt the laughter die in his throat. "Shit, you're serious, Simon. The guys really think we're... unfuckingbelievable, man. This is just unfuckingbelieveable."

"Now, Chief-"

"Don't 'now, Chief' me, Jim," Blair ranted. "This is serious. If they think we're lovers, they can break us up. Reassign us. I won't stand for that."

"You mean, you aren't?" Simon sputtered, then demanded, "What-what in the hell is going on here?"

"No, we're not!" Blair said angrily as he stood and faced his captain across the bed. "We're..." but he stopped suddenly.

"You still can't say it, can you?" Jim asked softly, taking Blair's hand in his own and holding it to his chest. 

"Of course, I can say it, Jim." Blair sat on the edge of the bed again, and lowered his forehead until it once again touched Jim's. "But it's our secret. It won't be special if--" Unshed tears welled up in his eyes. "If we tell Simon, or the guys, then everyone will know."

"It doesn't change things between us, between Steven," Jim whispered reassuringly, while his good hand fisted and unfisted gently in Blair's hair. 

"But-"

"Shhh," Jim crooned softly, gently guiding Blair's head to his shoulder. Blair could feel Jim lift his head to look up at their boss, but couldn't bring himself to do the same. "We're brothers, Simon."

Blair could feel the bed shake with the larger man's denial. "What?" he finally demanded. 

"Naomi and my father had an affair in 1968. Although we don't know the details, she left him before Blair was born. When dad died, he left Blair a videotape admitting paternity and providing for him like he provided for Steven and myself, although not quite as generously."

Blair put his hand on Jim's chest to stop the angry words. Blair knew it still rankled Jim that their father had basically given him a pittance. But Blair understood that William would have had to do major restructuring of his assets to split them equally three ways, a risky thing to do considering that Blair might not have been able to accept the truth and could have squandered what he was given or given it away to competitors in anger. William had worked too hard to see his empire destroyed, and Blair couldn't begrudge him his strategy. Besides, the interest on his accounts were more than enough to keep him in a comfortable lifestyle. He would never have to work again, if he so chose. 

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself off the bed and looked his boss straight in the eyes, noticing the confusion in the older man's eyes as he tried to reconcile what he thought he knew with the truth. 

"Brothers?" Simon finally sputtered. 

Both Jim and Blair nodded. Blair smiled and shook his head slightly, drained by the extreme range of emotions which had run through his body in such a short period of time.

"Steven knows," Simon said with certainty.

"Yes," Jim agreed, then frowned in confusion himself at Simon's apparent certainty. 

"When Blair was shot, Steven called dispatch and said his brother was still in the store," Simon explained. "When it was routed to me, I thought maybe something had happened and you had come back from your conference early. Later, I just assumed..."

"That he meant brother-in-law," Jim finished for him.

Simon nodded, then frowned as a small chuckle escaped the older detective. "So the touching-"

"Jim's always been tactile, Simon; has always communicated through touch and needed to be touched. The sentinel in him just sort of magnifies that need. It helps ground him. You know that," Blair said quietly.

"And once you found out you were brothers-"

"There were no restrictions on touching him," Jim admitted quietly. 

"Except-"

"We didn't tell anyone else," Blair said quietly, finally understanding why people were jumping to the wrong conclusion.

"Henri and Rafe think you looked like you won the lottery," Simon said to Blair when the silence between them grew. 

Blair nodded. "I did."

"So did I." Jim squeezed his hand. "And so did Steven."

Simon stood. "This is a lot to absorb."

"Tell me about it," Blair admitted quietly, looking at his brother and grinning. 

"Okay... well then," Simon stuttered. "Do you need anything? Anything I can bring you from home?"

Both men shook their heads. Simon nodded, tried to say something, then shook his head and left the room.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Simon walked up the stairs of 852 Prospect, grateful for the first time that the ancient elevator was once again out of order. It delayed the inevitable for a couple minutes longer.

Jim had been out of the hospital for four days and both he and Sandburg -- Blair, could he even think of him as Sandburg anymore - were scheduled to return to work the next day. 

He semi-expected the door to be opened when he reached the third floor and wondered if maybe they had gone for a walk, as both vehicles were downstairs. But even as he had the thought, he heard footsteps thundering down the stairs inside the loft. Try as he might, he couldn't prevent the smile from finding its way to his face. Sandburg was like a big puppy, all enthusiasm and feet. 

He started to raise his hand to knock on the door, knowing it was expected of him, but the door flung itself open before he could connect with it. 

"Sorry, Simon, I was upstairs putting away some clothes for Jim," Blair explained, stepping aside and waving his captain past him. 

"What? Jim couldn't get his ass off the couch?" Simon teased as he walked into the living area. 

"I've been threatened with bodily harm if I even make the attempt," Jim explained, smiling as he pointed to the chair beside the couch. 

Simon grinned at him as he sat. "Weren't you once a Ranger?" 

"He withheld ice cream from me last night, Simon. He's absolutely ruthless." Jim shot his brother a grin. 

Simon turned in time to see Blair stick his tongue out at the older man and cross his eyes. Simon shook his head in amusement. 

"So to what do we owe this unexpected visit?" Jim asked.

Blair came into the room and handed Simon a beer and Jim a glass of iced tea. Jim frowned, but Blair ignored him. The smile on Simon's face faded and he swallowed hard. 

"The guys in the pen were relieved to know that their detecting skills needed a little honing."

Blair sat on the arm of the couch beside Jim and smiled at him, although Simon could see it didn't quite reach his eyes. "The mistake was an easy enough one to make, I suppose."

Simon nodded. "However, lovers or brothers, the dilemma I find myself in remains the same."

Jim put his glass on a coaster and gave Simon his full attention. "How so?"

"Departmental regulations state that lovers, significant others or family members can't ride together."

"What?" Blair asked, startled. "What are you saying, Simon?"

"Come tomorrow, Sandburg will be reassigned."

"No," Jim said simply. 

"I'm sorry, Jim. I have no other choice. It's not that bad actually. He's a consultant. His desk will remain where it is. It's just that he won't ride exclusively with you anymore." Simon closed his eyes briefly, preparing himself for the battle to come.

"Simon, Jim's a sentinel. I'm...I'm his...guide for lack of a better word. You can't break us up. What about his zone-outs?"

"Jim hasn't zoned in ages," Simon countered, opening his eyes.

"Only because I ground myself in Blair," Jim said quietly. 

"That's not entirely true and you know it, Jim." Simon looked at both men intently. "Blair has always worked at the university, while he was doing his ride-along and even now while he's teaching. You've never been together 24/7. You'll still be able to connect at the office, but I can't let you two ride together any more."

"Why not?" Blair asked, and Simon tried to ignore the desperation in the young man's voice.

"Because in order to stem the rumors that you two are lovers, I had to let the truth be known. I can't let you two ride together when others are denied the same privilege." Simon set his beer on the table, careful to find a coaster, then stood and began to pace. "Look, Joel has practically figured everything out about Jim's senses anyway. I'll assign him as Jim's partner and you two can consult about how to keep Jim grounded in the field."

"Jim," Blair whispered, and Simon shut his eyes against the fear he heard in the young man's voice; not a fear for himself, but a fear for his brother whose care had been entrusted to him.

"No, Simon," Jim said, his voice angry.

Simon turned and stared at his friends. "You don't have a choice, Jim. I can't go to the mat with you on this one. I burned up all my favors keeping Sandburg as a ride-along as long as I did before he got his doctorate and I could hire him on a part-time basis."

"We'll go to the Chief and explain the facts of life to him," Jim said with determination. 

"No, Jim." Blair put his hand on his brother's shoulder, keeping the sentinel seated.

"Sandburg's right, Jim. Even if the Chief agreed, based on your abilities, the union would never allow it. And if too many people discovered your secret, think about the nightmare. Criminals demanding retrials. IA investigations. No, you can't risk it."

Simon watched as Jim drew in energy like an angry cloud about to burst, but Blair stopped him by gently taking his chin and forcing the older man to look at him. "He's right, you know. The consequences of your abilities getting out is too dangerous. I can't allow you to expose yourself like that."

"Sand...Blair, I can't do this without you."

Blair stood and walked to the balcony windows. "Yes, you can, Jim. I've been nothing more than a crutch for a while. You've already learned how to ground yourself in a second sense while focusing your energies on another. Maybe...maybe it's time to let you fly on your own." 

Simon watched the younger man try to mentally pull himself back together so he could face his brother with confidence. 

"Besides," Blair continued, "you'll probably be on desk duty for another month. It'll give us some time to come up with a plan, to bring Joel into the circle."

Jim closed his eyes for a moment as if turning Blair's words around in his head, as if trying to find the truth. Simon bit his lip as he watched Blair struggle to keep the pain from his face. 

"It'll work, man," the younger man finally said, when Jim remained silent.

"No." 

"Jim, listen to the kid," Simon encouraged, but gulped down his next words as Jim's light blue eyes pinned him like a bug.

"No, you listen, sir. Blair's not some action accessory I can just do without. I won't work without him."

Despite wanting to give in, Simon knew he couldn't. "Then you need to look into taking the captain's test because you're going to be sitting behind a desk otherwise."

"Then I respectfully quit, sir." Jim stood and moved into the kitchen and removed his badge and gun from a drawer.

Blair, who had been paralyzed by the drama unfolding in front of him, stumbled into the kitchen and tried to take the items away from his brother. "Don't be an idiot, Jim. You're a sentinel. You have to protect the tribe. It's who you are, what you are."

"Even though the tribe doesn't want me?"

"It wants you, Jim. You haven't been listening to what Simon said. He's not firing me, or you for that matter. He's just saying we can't be exclusive, that's all." 

"We don't need the money, Chief. It's not like we have to work in order to survive. Steven wants us to join him at the company full-time. You know that."

"But what about the tribe, man?" Blair countered, his breath hitching, even as he slid the badge back into the drawer. "What about the tribe?" 

Simon thought the younger man's words were reaching his brother, but Jim gently pulled Blair to his chest and looked at Simon with hard eyes. Simon knew what was coming even before the words were spoken. 

"Just so there are no more misunderstandings, let me be perfectly candid about my feelings on this subject." Jim released Blair and took his chin, forcing the younger man to meet his gaze. "As a sentinel, I cannot work without my guide. I _will_ not work without him. I may be able to function without him on some level, but understand this. I won't." Then speaking as if Simon wasn't even in the room, Jim said quietly, "You complete me on levels I never thought were possible, Blair. You tore down my walls and guided me not only with my senses but led me back into the world again. You helped me make peace with our father before he died and you brought Steven back into our lives. If we can't be policemen, then we'll be private detectives, or we'll work with Steven or be mercenaries-for-hire. But don't you dare think for a moment that I can live without you by my side."

Blair swallowed hard and whispered, "But being a policeman is who you are."

Jim shook his head. "No, being a sentinel is who I am, just as you are a guide. If we can't serve the tribe through the police, we will find another way, side-by-side."

"Side-by-side," Blair repeated in a whisper. 

Jim opened the drawer again and withdrew his badge. Blair swallowed hard, removed his own badge and gun and gave them to his brother. Jim smiled and pressed his lips to Blair's forehead, then turned to face Simon. "I'm sorry, sir."

"There'll be paperwork to fill out," Simon quietly informed them.

"We'll be in tomorrow to fill them out and to make sure any cases which haven't already been reassigned due to my injury will be."

"You'll still be needed to testify in some court cases," Simon added.

"It won't be a problem, sir."

Simon sighed, then waved at the equipment. "Then give them to me tomorrow when you come in."

"Very good, sir."

"Jim," Simon started, then stopped, closing his eyes briefly, before opening them again and trying one more time. "You know that if it were up to me-"

"We understand, Simon. We do," Blair said quietly, when Jim remained silent. 

Simon nodded, then left the loft, feeling a hundred years older than when he entered.

*-*-*-*-*-*

"So, private dicks, huh?" Blair asked with a small grin, his feet resting on his brother's lap, as Jim's feet were resting on his.

Jim popped one of Blair's toes and tried to look indignant. "Private investigators, please."

"I guess I should look into licensing in the morning."

"Probably wouldn't be a bad idea." 

"Are you sure you want to do this, Jim?"

"Yeah, I think I do. The politics at the PD have been getting harder as the years have gone by. I've never liked the idea that you could be used against me as some sort of leverage by the higher ups."

"So being private di-investigators means..."

"We'll be our own boss. We'll follow our own rules. Hell, we can even help Steven out from time to time with the company and not worry about using personal leave."

Blair released a long slow breath. "I can't believe you quit, Jim. You shouldn't have done it."

Jim sat up and removed Blair's feet from his lap, and pulled the younger man across the couch toward him. "Entreat me not to leave thee behind, or to return from following after thee. Be my guide, and I will be thy sentinel."

Blair leaned back against the solid chest, letting Jim's arms enfold him. "You're mixing up your verses, man," he teased softly, smiling when he felt Jim shrug behind him. "You realize," he said after a moment of silence, "that Simon had no choice, right?"

Jim remained quiet for several minutes and Blair knew he was wrestling with his emotions. "I know," Jim said at last.

"'Cause if we're going to be investigators, we're going to need all the police support we can get."

Jim nodded, but said nothing.

"And we're going to give two weeks’ notice so we don't leave anyone in the lurch or lose our benefits."

"All right."

"And we'll call Steven tonight and let him know what's going on."

"Okay."

Blair turned to face his brother. "And, Jim, just so there are no misunderstandings, I will be thy guide and you will be my sentinel, for now and until I breathe my last breath, no matter where you go or how you choose to serve the tribe."

\--End--


End file.
